Young, Wealthy, Committed

The conference center is nestled in the woods of rural Connecticut. This weekend the guests are mostly in their 20s. They are typical of their age in many ways—except for the hundreds of millions of dollars collectively held in their names.

These 70 rich kids have gathered to talk about wealth,
but the conversations aren't about BMWs or shopping sprees. Instead,
the young people gathered at the Making Money Make Change conference
discuss how to take responsibility for the money that has been
entrusted to them.

For people committed to social
change, wealth can be both a powerful resource and a difficult
challenge. In progressive circles, “rich” is often a dirty word, and
many youth hide their wealth. Some never consider the power of their
resources until they discover this new network of young donors. But
once they link up, many come to terms with their wealth and become
effective social change philanthropists.

During
this fall weekend conference, participants hear presentations on
environmental justice, socially responsible investing, racial diversity
in philanthropy, money and relationships, and the difficult question,
“How much is enough?”

Some people advocate giving it
all away. Karen Pittelman, at age 23, turned her $3 million trust fund
into a new foundation run by and for low-income women, keeping just
$15,000 for herself. Others are interested in using their money to
spearhead projects or leverage other fundraising. Some simply want to
explore how to live and invest responsibly.

Many
participants find themselves taking a different approach to
philanthropy than their parents. One traditional form of philanthropy
improves the lives of the wealthy through support for the opera or
their alma mater. Another form helps those in need but does not change
the underlying economic system that creates the need, such as support
for homeless shelters or the Red Cross. A third form—and that which
interests many of the participants at this conference—strives to
eliminate unjust economic hierarchies, including those surrounding
race, gender, sexuality, religion, and nationality.

Why
do these young people want to change a system that—at least on the
surface—benefits them? Each person who attended the conference has a
unique story about family wealth and personal activism. Three young
donors agreed to be interviewed for this article.

“Outside my comfort zone”Ian
Simmons, age 26, is the grandson of an insurance executive and son of
international development workers. His travels with his family allowed
him to meet people from many different circumstances, such as truck
factory workers in Moscow and women running a cooperative in Oaxaca.

Simmons
remembers the social activists his parents brought home for dinner. “I
saw them as some of the happiest people,” he said. “I was brought up to
believe that our lives are interconnected. When other people are
getting mistreated, I take it personally.”

Simmons
says he was embarrassed as a child to bring friends home because of the
size of his house. Now he is more open about his wealth.

His
education included working in an elevator parts factory and as a
construction worker. When he got electrical shocks from the machinery,
he discovered the consequences of not having OSHA regulations. “I kept
placing myself in situations outside of my comfort zone, challenging
myself,” he said.

He worked on the Harvard Living
Wage campaign not only for the benefit of the workers, but also because
“the folks who get educated at Harvard are some of the folks who will
make decisions about the world economy.” Simmons raised $30,000 from
Harvard alumni to place a critically timed political ad in the Boston
Globe. He co-sponsored grants for students to do activism during the
summer. The campaign was one of the greatest successes in Harvard labor
history, raising the benefits to low-income workers by $4 million a
year.

Reconciling contradictionsGita
Drury, age 28, inherited money from her grandfather's entrepreneurship
in one of the world's largest waste companies. Drury's mother was an
active community member and philanthropist, and Drury herself became
politicized when she interviewed women in prison. “It led me to
understand that people, especially women, are put in prison for
economic crimes rather than violent crimes,” she said.

“The current distribution of wealth is not sustainable,” she said. “It's not in anyone's interest.”

Drury
began her financial education at a young age but had no peers with whom
she could discuss the many challenges. For Drury, these challenges
include “reconciling the many contradictions,” including those
involving the source of her money, which comes from a corporation with
one of the worst environmental records.

She
co-founded the Active Element Foundation, which connects donors,
artists, and other activists, and is involved in four other
donor-organizing groups.

“Justice is more important ”Jamie
Schweser, age 29, received money from his parents when they sold their
business three years ago. Schweser attributes his inspiration to his
“fabulous, loving, supportive parents” who taught him what it means to
be a good human being.

“It's more important to do
what's right than what supposedly benefits me,” he said. “As a Jew, I
have to think of the Holocaust, how that situation would have looked
different if people had done what was right. ... Justice is more
important than me.”

In high school he entered
politics by protesting the Gulf War, and after reading No More Prisons,
he got involved in prison activism. Then he unexpectedly received an
inheritance.

“Initially I was gung-ho and ready to
do things [with the money], but I didn't realize how much I needed to
learn,” he said. The inheritance “opened up so many new options, I had
trouble knowing where I wanted to go.”

Asked why he
wanted to use his money for social change, Schweser said, “It's
important to challenge the idea that inequality benefits me. There are
ways in which my soul is wounded every day that I look around and see
so much pain and need. And then I look closer at myself and see so much
excess.”

Staying connected with other young donors
is important for Schweser, not only to be an effective agent for peace
and change, but also for emotional support. “I had many questions and
fears about being an activist and suddenly having a lot of money,” he
said.

“I am blessed to know brilliant and
understanding people. But most of my peers can't relate to activist
work around money. It is isolating.”

Then he adds, “There are a million reasons to have interpersonal challenges. Money is just one of them.”

Schweser
used his money to start a group called Cheddar for Change in which
youth from different class backgrounds give grants to local grassroots
projects. His Peace through Justice donor circle at the Making Money
Make Change conference raised $90,000 last year for an array of
grassroots organizations.

Drury, Simmons, and
Schweser are only three people among 70 each year at the Making Money
Make Change conference. The number of young people entering the
movement is growing, although they are a small fraction of the
country's young and wealthy.

Social change philanthropy constitutes less than 3 percent of all philanthropy nationwide.

Regardless
of the scale or quantity of money, Schweser points out the personal
value in giving: “No amount of money can outweigh the benefits of doing
what's right and acting in alignment with your beliefs.”

Jacqueline
Pratt, age 24, is a masters student of sustainable tropica lagriculture
at Stanford University. She lives in an intentional community, works
for indigenous rights, and is writing a magical realism novel about
mental illness and capitalism.